


Betting on Lost Time

by ignite_pass_tetsuya



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignite_pass_tetsuya/pseuds/ignite_pass_tetsuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking about his complicated past with Kagami and how his remaining days of high school basketball are numbered, Himuro storms off the night before a scrimmage during Yosen's late-Fall training camp, prompting Murasakibara to go after him and get an explanation for the strange behavior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betting on Lost Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is my second fanfiction, and I really wanted to write MuraHimu because I don't think they get enough love. I think the S3E9 end card is adorable (you know, the one where they're looking out the window at the falling snow?), so I wanted to write something about it.
> 
> Any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Eh? What is it, Muro-chin?”

Murasakibara Atsushi was laying on his back on his too-small, twin-sized bed, with his blanket pulled up to his chest and his hands locked behind his head. He turned his head to the side just enough to sneak a look at a shadow laying on a similar bed on the other side of their dark room. The shadow was, in fact, his Yosen teammate and the other half of the team’s double-ace duo: Himuro Tatsuya.

Himuro was laying on his side on his bed with his back to Murasakibara, but the center could tell something was bothering his raven-haired teammate. He had his knees pulled tight to his chest underneath his blanket, and Murasakibara could hear the fain clanking of the ring Himuro wore around his neck as he absentmindedly played with it, the same way he always did when he had a lot on his mind. To Murasakibara’s irritation, Himuro studiously ignored his question.

“Muro-chin,” he turned on his own side and propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “It’s annoying when you ignore me, Muro-chin.”

“Don’t worry yourself over it, Atsushi,” Himuro finally replied, his voice unusually quiet and hard to hear. “Go back to sleep; it’s almost midnight and we have an early day again tomorrow. Coach won’t be happy if we’re not rested for our scrimmage.”

“Eh…” Murasakibara _flopped_ down onto his back again, staring at the vent on the ceiling. The duo had been assigned to the same room for their pre-Winter Cup fall training camp, which he found dreadfully _boring_. Plus, he _hated_ having to run outside; Okay, so he hated running _at all_ , but the cold made everything worse. It was nearing the end of October, but it was unusually cold for this time of the year. Murasakibara may be tall, but he’s also pretty skinny; he got chilly easily. Unfortunately, their coach didn’t find this to be an argument worth listening to.

“If Muro-chin doesn’t go to sleep, he won’t be ready for our scrimmage either.”

“I don’t need you lecturing me right now, Atsushi. Go to sleep.”

Murasakibara turned his head and raised an eyebrow at his teammate. “Muro-chin has an attitude.”

“Are you _kidding_ me right now?” Himuro finally turned over in his bed to face Murasakibara, his one visible grey eye glaring at him through the darkness. The soft light from the moon was illuminating his face _just_ enough for Murasakibara to realize—

“Muro-chin has been crying.”

“Ugh!” Fed up, Himuro squeezed his eyes shut and threw off the blanket he had been using. He walked to the door and wrestled it open, but turned to Murasakibara one last time before stepping out into the dimly-lit hallway.

“You are the LAST person I need to deal with right now!” he practically screamed, forgetting for a moment that the rest of his team was currently trying to sleep. “Can’t you take a hint? _I want to be left alone._ ” With that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

It didn’t happen that often—usually because he just didn’t _care_ —but Murasakibara was stunned. The last time he had been yelled at like that was in their match against Seirin during last year’s Winter Cup. Himuro’s words and his fiery determination had been enough to at least keep him on the court, if only to get the older boy to stop crying all over him and rambling on about hard work and talent. He didn’t realize until later when he entered the Zone that Himuro’s words had a larger effect on him than he cares to admit.

“At least Muro-chin didn’t punch me this time. It was hard to eat snacks after that.”

Murasakibara sat up on edge of his bed for a moment, wondering what he should actually _do_ about the situation. He didn’t particularly _want_ to get out of bed. It was warm and inviting, and he was tired from practice (because whether he likes it or not, he’d been trying much harder since becoming acquainted with Himuro’s fist).

Initially, Murasakibara thought he would just go back to bed and finally try to sleep. Himuro would be fine, right? Of course he would. He’d go somewhere to let off some steam, then he would come back and join the dream world himself. There’s no reason to go after him. Besides, he just said he wanted to be alone.

The violet-haired teen made to lay back down, satisfied with his decision. However, his mind wouldn’t shut down. He knew a Himuro could act a little reckless when he lost his temper. He probably wasn’t thinking very clearly. What if he did something stupid? What if he _somehow_ went off and got himself hurt. Murasakibara let out a long, deep sigh.

In the end, the center stood up and decided he would try to find his teammate. Besides, he needed to make sure the shooting guard would be rested enough for their scrimmage.

At least, that’s the excuse he gave himself.

Since he really had no clue where his Himuro had gone, Murasakibara had made sure to grab the boy’s coat from the hook by the door, just in case. Knowing Himuro, he was walking around somewhere to cool his head, but the chilly October nights were too cold for the scant shorts and T-shirt he had been wearing. It’s not like the building is being heated much, either.

“This is so annoying,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled a small package of cookies from his shorts pocket and began munching on them.

He wandered around the dark and deserted building, searching for any sign that someone had recently been in the same location. He couldn’t see or hear anything that was obvious—no open doors or lights on in hallways—so he continued to search, occasionally mumbling a soft “Muro-chin” in hopes of getting a response back. After 15 minutes, he came to the other end of the building and the only room left to check hadn’t checked: the gym.

With a sigh, Murasakibara used his free hand to push open the door, forced to duck slightly in order to fit his tall body through the entrance. The room was almost completely dark save a few emergency lights scattered here and there across the high ceiling.

“Hey, Muro-chin? Are you here?” he called out, expecting a reply but receiving nothing in return.

“This is the last place, Muro-chin. I know you have to be here.”

“This game of hide-and-seek isn’t fun anymore. I want to go to bed.” He definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of this.

“Whatever. I’m leaving,” he said to the darkness.

He started to turn around to exit the gym when he heard a knock from across the gym. Murasakibara narrowed his eyes, scanning the room for what he hoped would be Himuro, but saw nothing.

“How annoying.”

Before he could take his leave, he heard it again. A faint rapping on metal. He walked over to the opposite end of the gym and stood in front of the large metal door that led to the outside. Tentatively, he pushed on the metal bar to open the door and came face-to-face with a puffy-eyed, shaking Himuro Tatsuya.

“Atsushi,” he breathed. He hung his head down, dark hair nearly completely covering his face now. “Thank God you came…”

“Muro-chin? What are you doing outside in the cold? Why didn’t you put a wedge in the door?” He opened the door fully, letting the shorter man step inside where it was at least a little warmer.

“I did. I put a wedge in when I left to go walk around. I didn’t plan on going far; just a few minutes was all. I just… needed to clear my head. I thought everyone else was gone, but when I got back, the door was shut. One of the janitors must’ve been here late and took the wedge out.” He looked to the ground where the aforementioned piece of wood lay on the ground, silently taunting him.

“I left my phone in our room and assumed you had fallen asleep… I was considering climbing a tree and trying to knock on someone’s window to let me in,” he added dryly. Balancing on the balls of his feet, Himuro bent his knees and crouched down, curling himself into a tight ball and shivering from his prolonged exposure to the elements.

Murasakibara sat down beside Himuro and threw his coat over his shoulders. He grabbed Himuro’s waist and pulled him over to sit against the wall where it would be at least a little more comfortable for his tall frame.

Himuro’s eyes widened. _What just happened?_ He was now sitting between Murasakibara’s long legs, head pressed to the center’s chest, arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Atsushi?” he asked tentatively.

“Muro-chin is cold. I’m not.” A simple reply. He reached back into his pocket and handed Himuro the last two cookies from the bag before shooting the crumpled plastic into a nearby trash bin.

“You’re sharing your snacks with me?”

“Just eat them before I change my mind.”

Himuro hid his smile but said, “Thanks, Atsushi.”

They sat in relative silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from Himuro nibbling on the chocolate chip cookies he had been given. Surprisingly, Murasakibara was the one to speak first.

“Will Muro-chin tell me what he thinking about? It’s annoying when you’re is upset… I don’t like it,” he added in a whisper.

Himuro had heard him but pretended not to notice. “It’s not that important, Atsushi, really,” he insisted. “I was just thinking about Taiga.”

“Eh…? But didn’t you two make up before their match against Rakuzan last year? I thought everything was fine again.”

“It is, but… It took too long to get to that point, I guess.”

“Muro-chin. I don’t understand. Don’t play mind games, they make my head hurt.”

Himuro let out a sigh and pushed his head into Murasakibara’s chest. “I was thinking about lost time.”

Murasakibara waited for him to continue.

“We spent so much time angry or upset with each other over what happened back in the States. Looking back on it now, it seems so childish… Betting our brotherhood on a stupid game of basketball.” He paused, tensing for a moment.

“Have I ever told you the whole story, Atsushi?”

“You’ve told me part of the story, but not everything.”

Himuro turned his body so his back was pressed up against Murasakibara’s chest. Murasakibara wrapped his arms back around Himuro’s shoulders once the older boy was comfortable, linking his fingers together over his chest in a silent show of support. He’s not stupid; he knows how hard it can be for Himuro to talk about this particular subject.

“I ran into Taiga one day after school. He always walked home alone, so I figured I should go talk to him. I knew that he was Japanese, but he didn’t know the same about me. So when I introduced myself in Japanese, he was surprised, but quickly took to me as someone he could trust. I invited him to play basketball with myself and some of the other kids, but he didn’t know how to play. He tagged along anyway, and I began to teach him the basics. It didn’t take him long to pick up on everything, and eventually, he started learning faster than I could teach him. He caught up to me more quickly than I would’ve thought he could.”

He grabbed at the ring that still hung from his neck, remembering the scenes as he told them.

“In time, we met Alex and asked her to teach us. She was reluctant at first, but she ultimately warmed up to the idea and taught us much more than I could’ve hoped for. We were so evenly matched. Throughout our time in America, we played 98 games as opponents, splitting them evenly between us for a 49-49 record… And when I realized that my little brother was _at least_ as good as I was—possibly even better—I introduced an ultimatum into our brotherhood: If I lost the next game, I wouldn’t call myself his big brother anymore. I wouldn’t deserve it. And during game 99… He missed the game-winning shot. A layup. On purpose.”

“What happened then, Muro-chin?”

“… I punched him. And I told him I wanted a rematch because that game didn’t count.”

“Oh. So I’m not the only one Muro-chin has punched,” Murasakibara said flatly.

“I was furious. And I couldn’t believe he left for Japan before we got to settle the score. I trained even more with Alex during that time, trying to better myself. Then when I returned here and had the chance to finally prove myself to Taiga… He had gotten _better_. _Incredible_ is more like it. I had improved, but not enough. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t reach Taiga’s level... but I think I’ve finally started to. I can’t control the amount of natural talent we each possess, but I can control the effort I put forth to improve myself. But… I realize now that I spent so much time trying to be _better_ than him, to get good enough to beat him down, that I lost all that time I could’ve been strengthening our bond and our brotherhood as opposed to finding a reason to tear it apart.”

“That’s what you were all upset about?”

“It’s the realization that this will be my last year to play against him that hits me hard. This is the sport that brought us together, but soon we won’t be able to play competitively against each other anymore.”

“Oh. Right.” Murasakibara said, resting his chin on the top of Himuro’s dark hair. He hadn’t thought about it, but Himuro had a point. He was a third year this year, so he needed to make this season count.

“I also don’t want to leave to go off to University and somehow forget about each other. Now that everything is fine between us again, I don’t want to lose it. It scares me to think that we wouldn’t be close as brothers if we’re not both competing in the sport we love.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“You have siblings, Atsushi. Don’t you understand the feeling?”

“Eh…” Murasakibara tilted his head back until it touched the wall behind him and stared at the ceiling. “I’m the youngest of 5. My siblings all liked to pick on me, but only until I got taller than all of them by the time I was in middle school. Then they just kinda… Left me alone. Or ignored me. However you want to look at it. Either way, it sucked.”

“Oh,” Himuro said, turning slightly and lifting his head to look at Murasakibara. “I didn’t realize. I apologize.”

“I don’t really care,” Murasakibara responded. “It’s not like we see each other much anymore anyway.” He finally looked down to meet Himuro’s stare.

“I guess it’s okay,” he finally added. “Muro-chin treats me nicer than most people.”

At that, Himuro pulled away from Murasakibara enough to turn face-to-face with his Yosen teammate. Violet eyes stared intently back at him, seeming dull and bored to anyone who didn’t know any better. In that gaze, Himuro saw everything that Murasakibara wasn’t saying out loud. He wished his siblings would stop ignoring him or treating him like a stranger because of his height. He wished people wouldn’t instantly run scared of him for the same reason. He wanted people to stop gathering opinions on who he was based solely on his outward appearance.

And maybe, he was a little bit jealous of Himuro’s relationship with Kagami, because he hasn’t felt that kind of love from someone in a long time.

Himuro opened his arms, wrapping them around Murasakibara’s waist and sliding closer so he could rest his head back over the other’s heartbeat. It was strong, just like the person it sustained, and Himuro couldn’t understand why no one else bothered to give the usually gentle giant more of a chance.

It took a little while, but Murasakibara eventually brought his arms up to wrap around Himuro’s shoulders and waist. Seconds later, he decided to move the hand from Himuro’s shoulders to tangle in the older boy’s soft hair instead. He rested his chin on top of Himuro’s head once more and could smell his shampoo—it smelled wonderful, like coconuts.

“Eh, Muro-chin?”

“Yes, Atsushi?”

Himuro tried to move to look at his friend but found that the hold he was currently in was difficult to break free of on his own.

“Thanks, Muro-chin.” He finally let go of Himuro’s head.

“For what, exactly?”

Murasakibara turned his violet eyes back to the ceiling. “It’s just nice being treated like a normal person by _someone_ in this place.”

Himuro showed a soft smile, his one visible eye crinkling slightly at the corner.

“You _are_ normal, Atsushi,” Himuro reassured. “People who don’t take the time to know the real you don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“Now Muro-chin is just being embarrassing,” Murasakibara whined. “Stop that.”

“You started it, Atsushi,” Himuro shot back. He paused, then: “I should be thanking you, too.”

“Eh?” He returned his gaze to Himuro.

“You came after me, even though I _know_ you wanted to sleep. You didn’t stop until you found me, and you thought to bring my coat in case I did something stupid—which I did. You even sat and listened to me vent about Taiga _without_ telling me I was annoying. That’s impressive,” he added, raising an eyebrow with a small smile coming to his lips.

“Muro-chin is still being embarrassing. But… You’re welcome.” He waited a moment before he spoke again. “Can we go back to our room now? The floor isn’t comfortable and I’m tired.”

Himuro let out a laugh and got to his feet, his coat still wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He held out his hands to pull Murasakibara to his feet.

“Of course.” He looked up at his teammate through the dim lighting. He froze for a second, then leaned to the side to look out the large window behind his head. “Look, Atsushi. It’s snowing.”

Murasakibara turned to look out the window himself, watching the small white flakes fall from the sky. It was beautiful, he thought, but also nicer when they were in the safe, comfortable warmth of the building. He flicked his gaze to Himuro, seeing that the shorter boy was still gazing at the window.

“There wasn’t much snow in Los Angeles,” Himuro murmured.

“Hm? What, Muro-chin?”

The shorter boy absentmindedly shook his head, keeping his attention focused on the sight in front of him. “Oh, it’s nothing, Atsushi.”

Murasakibara’s soft gaze turned into a glare. That’s the same line that had started this entire thing and he wasn’t interested in prolonging this further.

Feeling the piercing gaze focused on him, Himuro turned his head to come face-to-face with narrowed eyes.

“Really, Atsushi!” he insisted. “I was just thinking of home again. There wasn’t much snow there, that’s all.”

Murasakibara’s features softened again and he looked first to the floor, then back to the window before he spoke. He carefully avoided looking at Himuro’s face.

“Well, this is Muro-chin’s home now. And when we’re at home, we sleep.”

Himuro smiled. “All right, all right, I get it,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Murasakibara returned a small smile for the first time that night, and Himuro tried to etch it into his memory. It was a rare sight, but he was happy to say it was there because of him.

“Come on, Atsushi.”

The two of them turned to head across the hardwood of the court and back to their room and their warm beds. As they walked, they conversed briefly about new strategies and tactics they could practice in their upcoming scrimmage, eager to show what they could do this year at the Winter Cup.

Murasakibara only dropped one of Himuro’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, suggestions, or general feedback is greatly appreciated! I'm always looking to become a better writer, especially as I tackle my chapter fic, Not All Who Wander Are Lost.


End file.
